The Sicilian's Bride (16 page)

She looked up, her eyes wide, her cheeks flushed in the light from the gas lantern hanging from a branch of the sycamore tree.

“You don’t have to do that,” she said.

“But I want to show you off. You’ll wear your blue dress and I’ll even wear a clean shirt. I want everyone to see me having dinner with the beautiful American winemaker.”

T
HE NEXT NIGHT
Isabel showered and scrubbed the paint off her fingers before putting on her one and only dress. She loved cooking with Dario and for Dario in her own rustic kitchen every night, but when he’d invited her to dinner at the hotel, she’d had to stop abruptly and think. This was a date. They were having an affair, but this was their first date. She hadn’t had a real date for years. Certainly not with Neil.

Her mind was still reeling. He wanted to show her off. He wanted people to see them together. It was all so new, so amazingly different from her last affair. It made her feel wanted and desired…but not loved. If he loved her she’d know it. But he didn’t. His words echoed in her brain—
it won’t happen again.
She understood that. He’d loved Magdalena, but he’d never love again. She felt the same. It didn’t matter. Love was greatly oversold.

When she came downstairs he turned to look at her. His mouth fell open. He looked as stunned as if he’d never seen her before, when he’d seen her every day of the past fourteen.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, nervously adjusting the spaghetti strap of her dress. She hadn’t worn it since that night at his house. She hadn’t been back there since.

“You look beautiful,” he said soberly.

Then it was her turn to stare. He was so gorgeous in a white shirt that contrasted with his dark hair and showed off his tan that she felt as though she’d never seen him before.

The wind whipped her hair against her cheek as they drove down the hill to the hotel. He took his eyes off the road from time to time to look at her and she felt the heat from his gaze.

They had drinks in the bar. Dario ordered Bellinis for them, ripe white peaches mixed with champagne, and he introduced her to several of his friends. They made small talk about wine and grapes until they went into the dining room.

“So much has happened since I left this hotel,” she said looking around at the familiar white tablecloths and the flowers on every table. “I hardly feel like the same person who bumbled her way to the Azienda. I have you to thank for taking me there and making me feel at home.”

He shook his head. “You did it on your own. You wouldn’t let anyone or anything stand in your way. Anyone else would have turned around and gone home after one look at the Azienda. Not you.” He sent her a dazzling smile with no hint of regret in it, at least that’s what she wanted to think.

Before they ordered, a bottle of dry sparkling white wine was brought to the table and a waiter in a black vest poured two glasses.

“To the future,” Dario said, tapping his glass against hers. “But first we have to bury the past. I’ve told you more than you want to know about my past and Magdalena, but you haven’t told me how you got fired.”

She took a sip of wine then set her glass down. “I’d rather not talk about it. I’d rather forget it.”

“You can’t forget something until it’s gone, dead and buried and out of sight.” He paused. “Believe me, I know. Some other time then,” he said with a shrug.

She knew it was time to come clean with the whole story,
no matter how painful. It was only fair. He’d told her about Magdalena and now it was her turn. But when the
calamare fritti
came with a delicious spicy sauce she didn’t want to spoil the mood or the dinner so she changed the subject. The salad was her favorite, made of spinach with ribbons of
pancetta
and sprinkled with chunks of creamy gorgonzola cheese. It was so delicious and he was being so entertaining and making her smile with stories of his childhood, she couldn’t change the subject and start talking about her disastrous affair. Especially when the main course arrived—pasta with smoked salmon in a brandy cream sauce. She sighed with contentment as she spooned the last drop of sauce from her plate.

“The last time I ate dinner here was the night I moved to the Azienda,” she said. “It was early and I was the only one in the dining room.” What a difference. Tonight she was eating with the best-looking, most desirable man in Sicily. Tonight the place was full of couples and families, happily talking, drinking and eating. Not a single person was alone. It was almost a crime in Sicily to eat alone. Food was for sharing. Life was for sharing. How far she’d come in just a few weeks. How much farther would she go?

After coffee they strolled out to his car. She still hadn’t answered his questions. She didn’t know how to start. So she waited until they got back to the Azienda and were sitting on the newly painted front veranda, on a large swing he’d brought her as a housewarming present.

They sat in companionable silence for a long time swinging back and forth while the stars glittered in the sky above them.
Tell him, tell him,
said the voice inside her head.
It’s not going to get any easier.

“All right,” she said at last, unable to prolong the silence any more. “You asked me how I got fired. His wife found out. I don’t know how. But one day she burst into his office while
I was there. We weren’t doing anything, just talking. But she was furious. She screamed at me, called me names. I tried to tell her I was as shocked as she was, I’d had no idea that Neil was married. The next day I had fifteen minutes to clear my desk and leave the building. I was humiliated, and I was angry.
Why me,
I thought. Especially when I learned he hadn’t been fired, he hadn’t even been punished. In fact, he got promoted.”

The memory of the shame and humiliation caused all the air in her lungs to leave. She took a deep breath. “The next week I dressed in a suit and went to see him to get a recommendation I knew I’d need if I ever applied for a job again. I thought it was the least he could do.”

She hated talking about it. And yet, Dario was right. It was time to bury the past. If she couldn’t tell Dario, then she couldn’t tell anyone.

“He said he couldn’t do it. He treated me as if
I’d
seduced
him
. As if it was all my fault. He said I deserved to be fired. I felt so sick I rushed out to the street. I started to believe he was right, that somehow I deserved what had happened to me. That was still my mood when I got the letter from the lawyer. After job-hunting for months, avoiding friends and sinking deeper and deeper into depression, I got the letter. I was an heiress. I had someplace to go and something to do. I studied Italian, I read up on winemaking. I had a goal, a purpose to my life.”

He put his arm around her shoulders and held her tightly against him, her head on his shoulder. She could have stayed there forever.

“You wonder how I could ever have loved somebody like that,” she said. “You have to realize that he not only told me I was a brilliant designer, he said I was beautiful and he loved me.”

She leaned back, still feeling the support of Dario’s arm around her. “No one had ever treated me that way before. No one had loved me before. One thing I’d learned long ago and
that was not to cry. When it all fell apart, the day his wife found out and confronted us, I didn’t cry. Because, if you cry, people will mock you or feel sorry for you. I’m not sure what is worst.”

“So you came to Sicily.”

“Thanks to my uncle.”

“But it still hurts.” It wasn’t a question. It was as if he knew.

She turned her head to look up at him. His eyes were deep pools of understanding. “Yes. No. Not as much.”
Not since you came into my life.
“I have other things to think about now. The grapes, the harvest, the Blessing, the house.”
And you
.

And then she broke the one rule she’d always lived by. She started to cry. After all these years and all the rejections, all the hurt feelings, all the insults and all the sleepless nights she’d kept the tears from flowing. Maybe it was the night or Dario or the memories she’d uncovered. Whatever it was, once she started she couldn’t stop. A lifetime of tears poured from her eyes onto his shoulder, onto his chest, dampening his beautiful clean white shirt.

“Tesoro don’ grido di t
…” he said. She didn’t understand the words, but they made her feel better anyway. After an eternity, when she was finally cried out, she lay exhausted with her head in his lap looking up at the stars. And saying to herself the same prayer she said every night.
Please God, don’t let me fall in love again.

The Saturday of the Blessing was a brilliant, hot sunny day, like all the others. The early-morning mist that hung over the vines had disappeared by eight in the morning when the workers arrived with huge steel drums to fill with charcoal and cook the meat over a makeshift grill. Isabel stood at the edge of the vineyard, looking out at the fields below, her heart pounding with anticipation when Dario came up behind her and put his arms around her.

“Excited?” he said.

“And a little worried. What if the priest forgets to come? What if the wine from the cellar isn’t good enough? What if I didn’t order enough food.”
What if I’ve fallen in love with you and you don’t love me back?
It was her worst fear and her current nightmare. After two glorious weeks together—working together, eating together and sleeping together and getting things ready for the Blessing—today was the pinnacle. It would be a turning point. They’d either go forward or backward. She studied Dario’s face for a clue to how he felt. At the end of the day, would he take his clothes and his tools and go home? Or would he tell her the words she wanted to hear.
I love you Isabel. I want to spend my life with you. Not just two weeks, but forever.

He turned her around in his arms and pressed his finger against her lips.

“It’s going to be a perfect day,” he said. “You’ll see. It’s not the end, it’s just the beginning.”

She nodded. If only he meant that the way she wanted him to mean it. She had high hopes for the day, a beautiful ceremony, delicious food and wonderful new friends to share it with. It should be enough, but she wanted more. She wanted Dario.

What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she be happy with what she had? A house and a working vineyard. She didn’t want to admit it, but she knew she’d made a terrible mistake. She’d fallen in love with Dario. When did it happen? The night he came to shoot the boars? The night he took her to his house and kissed her? Or was it that first day when she saw him standing by the side of the road?

Whenever it was, she’d have to get over it. Unless he felt the same. Today she’d tell him how she felt. How else would she know if he loved her too? If he didn’t, why had he moved into her house, why had he fed her, helped her, fixed her roof,
repaired her water heater? Held her, kissed her, made love to her and let the world see they were a couple?

If he didn’t love her, would she continue her life without him? She couldn’t go on seeing him day and night like this if there was no future for them. If he didn’t love her now he never would. It was time to find out the truth before it was too late for her to recuperate.

People started arriving mid morning, wearing their Sunday best, all Dario’s relatives, including his grandfather in a wheelchair. They assembled in the meadow. The priest was there in his flowing robe. Dario was wearing a suit and Isabel almost fainted when she saw how gorgeous he looked in the white shirt and contrasting dark jacket and tie. His face was sun-browned and his eyes bluer than ever.

“You look beautiful,” he said to her, his gaze lingering on the bodice of her turquoise dress, the same dress she’d worn at his house, the same dress she’d worn the night she’d finally let down her defenses and told him what had happened to her. She managed a little smile, too nervous and excited to compliment him in return. Or to tell him she loved him. Or ask if he loved her.

The tantalizing smell of pork roasting on a spit blended with the warm grass, the sweet smell of crushed grapes and the summer sunshine. The priest took his place at the edge of the clearing facing the crowd.

“God watereth the hills from above: the earth is filled with the fruit of thy works. He bringeth forth grass for the cattle, and green herb for the service of man: that he may bring food out of the earth; and wine that maketh glad the heart of man. Psalms 104: 13-14.” When he blessed a basket of Amarado grapes Isabel felt a rush of emotion so strong she almost fainted. It was all so beautiful. So bittersweet. The beginning of her life as a winemaker on her own and the end of being
Dario’s protégée, always able to count on him being around. Unless…unless…

After the short service, Isabel saw Dario deep in conversation with his brother, Cosmo, and two sisters. He was frowning. His sister had her hand on his shoulder. She felt a slight shiver of fear go up her spine. Something had happened. Something was wrong.

She kissed the guests on both cheeks, she thanked them all for coming, she served the food and all the while she kept Dario and his family in view, wondering and worrying.

Finally he broke away from his relatives and joined her at the edge of the clearing.

“I have to leave,” he said. “There’s a problem. The dock workers in Palermo are on strike and our wine has been sitting on the dock for two weeks. It’s my fault. I’ve been out of touch. The family didn’t want to bother me while I was with you, they thought they could handle it.” He paused. “They can’t.”

Isabel felt cold all over despite the heat from the noonday sun. She had a terrible feeling that history was repeating itself. Once again Dario had been distracted from his work by a woman. Her. And he felt guilty, maybe he even resented her for keeping him here helping her when he should have been paying attention to Montessori wine instead of her.

“I’m heading for Palermo now, today.” He glanced around at the party in full swing, the friends and neighbors eating and drinking together, but she wondered if he even noticed them with his mind on his problem.

“Dario, I’ll miss you,” she said softly. Now was not the time to tell him she loved him. Maybe after he got back.